


Wish You Were Here

by Adolphus Longestaffe (adolphus_longestaffe), EdgeLady



Series: Fate & Fury [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe Overwatch Golden Age, Bottom Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Bottom Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Daddy Kink, Dominance, Exhibitionism, Light BDSM, M/M, Rimming, Self-cest, Sexy Wrestling, Spanking, Top Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Top Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Voyeurism, Young Jack is Kinky AF, elaborate masturbation, nanite tentacles, tentacle sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:24:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adolphus_longestaffe/pseuds/Adolphus%20Longestaffe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgeLady/pseuds/EdgeLady
Summary: Due to a severe Tracer malfunction, post-fall Reaper and Soldier: 76 have been scienced away into their past, where they are currently assisting their younger selves in making this timeline a far better version of reality than their own. The Gabes are away on a week-long mission together and the Jacks are back at HQ, where they decide to take matters into their own hands.





	1. Wish You Were Here

**Author's Note:**

> From Edgelady: This piece is set in a world I created for a much longer (and slightly less smutty) time travel fix-it called [Fate & the Fall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15497097). Now that Fate & the Fall has been released into the wild, I recommend you read the first 6 chapters of that first, because it provides a lot more context for this story. And if you've read Wish before, I absolutely recommend reading Fate and then re-reading Wish. 
> 
> I am beyond giddy at the opportunity to get to do this crazy and ridiculously fun collab with a writer I still genuinely fangurl over. All my love to Adolphus and thank you for joining me on this strange journey, and for genuinely making me laugh (and blush, good gracious Jack Morrison, you are wild!) throughout this.
> 
>  
> 
> From Adolphus: My thanks to the amazingly talented Edgelady, who has been kind enough to trust me with her wonderful characters and let me play around in her story universe. She wrote the Gabes and I wrote the Jacks until the last chapter, where she wrote the young guys and I wrote the old guys (cause let's face it, I love grouchy old men more than anything). This has been a blast to write and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Colonel James Dean Morrison, U.S. Army, retired. Uncle James to Jack Morrison, savior of the world, hero of the human race, and public face of the nascent Overwatch organization. This is the identity they’ve cooked up for Jack, while he’s at HQ acting as an advisor for the younger version of himself, with whose life he and the Gabriel Reyes from his own timeline have become inextricably involved. The middle name is a little joke of the older Gabriel’s—raillery about the leather jacket and motorcycle he’d adopted in their own timeline. The advisor bit is only half cover-story.

He is ostensibly acting as a materiel command consultant as the agency is formed. In actuality, the four of them had discussed this at length and come to the conclusion that it was imperative that either old Jack or old Gabe (as the younger ones had taken to calling them) be present during the structuring of Overwatch. There were myriads of contingencies that could arise, delicate wording to negotiate, and even they couldn’t possibly foresee all the pitfalls that would have to be carefully avoided during this crucial period. This kind of advising had to be done on the spot.

Aside from the fact that he had been left out of a large part of the structuring in their own timeline, old Gabe is far too recognizable as Gabriel Reyes (when he is not a mass of writhing smoke tentacles, which is another reason to avoid putting him in rooms with large groups of people) to even be considered as an option, so old Jack had to do it. As such, the Gabes had taken the opportunity to scout some strategic locations for forward bases that old Gabe considered crucial to his plans for the future. He is introduced as Jack’s uncle James to the young versions of many of his old friends, acquaintances, and coworkers, which is a surreal experience in and of itself. Made more surreal by the fact that not a single one of them appears to question it for the barest second. Not even his dear almost-sister Ana, which breaks his old heart a little. He must really have aged terribly.

After the third day of sitting quietly behind his younger self in meeting after meeting, talking late into the night, redrafting proposals for renegotiation, and generally being treated like an elderly relative being humored by his famous young nephew, Jack is emotionally and physically exhausted. He lingers in the shower, letting the hot water soothe his taxed muscles. It’s a comfort to him that this is not _his_ shower. It isn’t even his room. Not the one Overwatch had given him in his timeline. For some reason, it is this that brings suddenly into stark relief for him how very much has changed. Maybe…maybe they do have a shot at making this world better.

When he hears the bathroom door opening and feels the accompanying gust of cool air, his instinct is to cover up. The glass shower door doesn’t conceal much of anything, and he feels suddenly awkward as young Jack saunters in like he owns the place. Which he does, of course, but he doesn’t have to be so fucking laissez faire about it. Jack can’t help steal a sidelong glance at his younger self, standing there shirtless in his blue sweatpants, squeezing toothpaste onto a red toothbrush. So fresh and young and full of life. His broad shoulders and muscular back are still golden-tanned and unscarred. He catches Jack looking at him and grins insouciantly, the smug little shit. Jesus, had he really been so goddamned cocky? Old Jack turns away with a roll of his eyes and continues to soap himself.

He puts his head under the steaming water again, wanting to feel the soothing heat flowing over him for just a few more minutes, then he shuts off the shower. He nearly jumps out of his skin when the shower door opens. Maybe it’s because it’s him or something, but he’d simply forgotten the young blonde was there. But he is. Standing there staring at him out of his own blue eyes, holding a towel out to him.

“Thanks,” Jack says gruffly, taking the towel. “You wanna…”

He gestures toward the door, indicating that his younger self should give him some privacy. Very much _not_ to his surprise (it is him, after all), young Jack remains exactly where he is.

“Please, old man. You have literally nothing I haven’t seen.” The blue eyes drift down Jack’s naked body. “Aside from a dozen or so badass scars.”

Jack sighs, eyeing the blonde for a hopeless moment.

“Ok, fine,” he says, pushing the towel back into his hands. “But you can at least dry me off while you’re inspecting me like a bug in a jar.”

Young Jack’s impossibly bright-blue eyes somehow manage to brighten another kilowatt or so. He takes the plush towel to Jack’s white hair first, giving it a vigorous, circular rub from back to front. Jack can’t help but laugh. This is exactly how he dries his own hair. Of course it is.

“Not a bug in a jar,” his younger self says thoughtfully. He’s moving lower with the towel, rubbing Jack’s damp skin vigorously as he goes. “More like…a _me_ in a jar. I mean, can you really blame me for being curious?”

Jack snorts. “Yeah, I’m you. Which means you’re me. And I know what I’d be thinking right now, so don’t even—”

“Oh, you do?” Young Jack’s blonde eyebrows shoot up. Jack twitches as the younger man pushes his legs apart to gently towel that sensitive, personal area. “Enlighten me. What would you be thinking?”

Jack frowns, trying to look as parental and disapproving as possible. “How do think your Gabriel would feel about…that?”

He’s not even sure how _he_ would feel about it. Would it even count as…

“My Gabriel?” young Jack says dubiously. “You know exactly what he’d think of it. Or, you can guess from context. It’s not like the three of us have been shy with each other. The four of us, really.”

“That was completely different,” Jack says, ignoring the reference to young Jack having been with the older Gabriel. “That was…us _with_ him. I’m not sure he’d feel the same way about—what are you doing?”

The younger him has pulled out his phone as Jack is talking and appears to be typing a message. He gives the screen another tap and looks up again.

“Finding out exactly what Gabe thinks about it,” he says, smiling pertly.

Before the sentence is all the way out of his mouth, his phone is already vibrating with a quick succession of messages. He scans through them and his self-satisfied grin intensifies. He holds the phone out to Jack.

**Jack:** Hey babe, I’m thinking about fucking the older me.

**Gabe:** ha ha very funny

**Gabe:** you fucking dicktease

**Gabe:** are you really though?

**Gabe:** ????

**Gabe:** Jack I swear to god

**Gabe:** if you don’t send me video or at least pictures I’m leaving you

“Jesus Christ,” Jack mutters, passing a hand over his scarred brow. “You two are…well, you’re exactly how I remember, actually. Fuck me.”

“Ok,” young Jack chirps.

“You cocky little shit,” Jack grumbles. “What makes you think I’d want to…you know…fuck _myself_?”

“Uh…cause I’m you and I would?” Young Jack quirks a blonde eyebrow and moves even closer, invading the older man’s space. “I mean, honestly. What part of me are you not looking at? I’m gorgeous.”

As he says this, though, he reaches out and strokes Jack’s scarred cheek with the tips of his fingers. Jack backs away abruptly.

“I remember how I looked back then,” he growls, snatching the towel out of his hands and wrapping it hastily around his waist. “I don’t need you literally rubbing it in my face that I’m—that I look the way I do now.”

“Jack, wait,” young Jack says, grasping at his arm as he exits the bathroom.

Jack shakes him off and stalks to the guest room, shutting the door behind him with a bang. The phone rings in young Jack’s hand at that moment, and he touches the screen to answer it.

“Hey, Gabe,” he says, still gazing after old Jack with a frown on his handsome face.

“Jack. _Mi sol. Mi vida_ ,” Gabe’s voice says, through the tiny speaker. “Have I told you lately how amazing you are? And how much I love you?”

“I’m working on it, Gabe, Jesus,” Jack laughs. “What do you want me to do? Just throw him down and have my way with him?”

“Holy—would…would that be—” Gabe stammers.

This is accompanied by a sound like a raspy, metallic laugh, from somewhere near him.

“Is Reaper with you?” Jack asks.

“Yeah, he is,” old Gabriel says in the background. “And he can hear you. Gimme the phone, _pendejo_.”

Jack hears some rustling against the speaker, then old Gabriel’s voice comes through.

“So, you want to fuck the old soldier, huh?” he says, sounding far too entertained. “What’s the matter, kid? Tentacle sounding not kinky enough for you?”

Old Gabriel’s voice goes straight to Jack’s dick, already half-hard and throbbing with the memory of the particularly stimulating interaction they’d had in Bucharest.

“Tentacle…sounding…? What the fuck, really?” he hears his Gabe asking.

Jack blushes to the ears. “Don’t kink-shame me, Gabes! You two are the ones demanding photographic evidence of a thing I only said I was thinking about.”

“No one’s kink shaming you, sunshine,” old Gabriel says. “As someone who benefitted from your kinks for many years, I guarantee you, we appreciate all of them. Except that thing with the…well, nevermind. I’ll let this asshole find that one out for himself.”

He chuckles to himself, and Jack hears his Gabe saying, “Find what out? Oh, come on!”

“Just remember, kid,” old Gabriel continues, ignoring him. “My Jack is you, plus about three decades of experience. Don’t underestimate him.”

“I won’t,” Jack says distractedly. “Thanks, Gabriel.”

_My Jack_ , he thinks, after they hang up. _Interesting_.

He knocks on the guest room door, and receiving no answer, opens it anyway. Old Jack is lying on top of the covers facing the wall, in black boxer-briefs and a white t-shirt.

“Nice try, old man,” Jack says. “I know when I’m pretending to be asleep.”

The old soldier doesn’t respond until he pads quietly to the side of the bed.

“I’m very tired, Jack,” he says wearily. “What do you want?”

“You,” young Jack replies.

“What the fuck do you want with me?” old Jack demands, his voice all gravel and crags.

He turns over to look up at young Jack, just as he climbs into the bed. Young Jack takes advantage of this opportunity and comes down right on top of him, straddling his lap with his muscular thighs. Old Jack doesn’t bother to resist. He just stares up at him, looking vaguely annoyed.

“You seem like you could use a little fun,” young Jack shrugs, with another one of his insouciant grins. “No one knows what I like better than me.”

Jack sighs. “You’ve got more than enough _fun_ on your hands with both Gabes mooning all over you. You don’t need to drag me into it.”

“Jack, what the fuck,” young Jack says impatiently, dropping the flirtatious tone. “What happened to me? How did I get so fucking…delusional.”

“Delusional? There’s no delusion here, Jack. I got old. I’m a scarred, worn-out husk of…” He gestures toward young Jack’s bare torso. “This.”

Young Jack blinks at him. “Do you even realize how stupid that sounds? My Gabe is crazy about you. You recall that the three of us fucked, correct?”

Jack looks away, shaking his head. “That was…pity.”

“Pity?” young Jack laughs. “I caught him wandering around all blushy with a hard-on from watching you do pushups. I would’ve been jealous, but…you know. You’re like a sneak preview. If I’m going to look like you in three decades, then my Gabe is still going to be just as hot for me as yours is for you.”

Jack’s face hardens. “He’s not mine. Not anymore. Not for a long time.”

“Jesus, you really are an idiot,” young Jack frowns. “I assumed I’d have gotten smarter in thirty-odd years. Gabriel Reyes is just as much in love with you now as he was…well…now, but in your timeline.”

Jack blinks up at the blonde for a long moment, not knowing what to say. How can he tell his younger self about the rift that had grown between them? The years of hurt and hopelessness and heartache. How can he explain the quiet longing that is slowly consuming his soul? Even though it’s him, it feels too…personal. Too intimate to be shared with any but one. As he’s been occupied with these thoughts, young Jack’s fingers have been stealing up under his t-shirt.

“I want to take your shirt off,” he says, tugging at the hem. “Sit up.”

Jack obeys without thinking, only really realizing it when young Jack has already tossed his t-shirt onto the floor. He falls back onto the mattress with a huff. Much to his chagrin, young Jack follows, pressing his warm, smooth skin against his bare chest. Despite his intent to resist, Jack instinctively lifts his chin to let the blonde head tuck in beneath it, then he almost laughs. He should have anticipated this, anyway. It’s exactly what he would have done.

And it’s…it’s not that bad. Not as weird as he’d assumed it would be, at least. So he lets young Jack lie there tracing his fingertips in little circles over his stomach, still taut and muscular despite his age. He catches his wrist when his hand wanders lower, however. He’s not quite ready for that.

He is actually beginning to drift off, when young Jack’s phone vibrates in his sweatpants pocket, which is pressed between their thighs. The blonde sits up and digs it out. He looks up at Jack, then back down at the phone’s screen, blue eyes wide and lips parted.

“The, uh—the Gabes,” he says, with a feverish little laugh. “You might want to look at this.”

 

****

 

**Jack:**  Hey babe, what are you doing?

**Gabe:** Eating. Mmm. The food here is soooo good.

**Jack:** I’m jealous.

**Jack:** I wish I could travel with you.

**Jack:** How is it fair that I’m stuck in cold, wet Switzerland, when you get to hang out in a tropical paradise??

Gabriel chuckles to himself at the quick succession of texts, the last of which is followed by a sad-face emoji. He pops another _pão de queijo_ (cheesy bread) into his mouth before texting back.

**Gabe:** I mean I am here to work, you know. Well some of the time.

**Jack:** Asshole.

**Gabe:** I worked a little this morning, if that helps. But the President had other business, so I’ve been wandering around Rio, enjoying the street food and the beach and the hot men. You should see the place the President put me up. Holy shit, this beach resort is amazing. Think I’ll work on my tan this afternoon.

The string of letters and symbols that come back at him is gibberish, but he laughs, because he knows it’s Jack cursing him out.

**Gabe:** The things I would do to you in this private beach cabana…mmm, I’d be eating something besides the street food here, that’s for sure. Wish you were here, cariño.

He adds a heart emoji to that, slips his phone back in his pocket, eats the last piece of _picanha_ (sirloin steak) on his plate, and then gets up. Gabriel cleans up after himself before heading down the busy street. People here know him. He has appeared publicly with the President of Brazil many times over the past year, and they know he shut down the Rio omnium in the last year of the war, and he has had a hand in the country’s economic recovery.

Thus random strangers greet him as he walks down the street, and vendors of various street foods and other merchandise call out to him respectfully, offering samples. He politely declines, and he greets everyone who talks to him in decent Portuguese, which both surprises and delights the natives. Some people ask him about his daughter and others about the rest of his team. But it is nowhere near as intrusive as his hometown of Los Angeles, where paparazzi tirelessly follow him and his family, and cameras are constantly clicking.

It’s going to take forever to get back to his hotel at this rate, though, so he stops at a corner market to buy a six pack of beer and some sweets before flagging down a taxi to take him back. It really is an astoundingly gorgeous place. A majestic resort set on a pearly-white beach, overlooking the emerald waters of the South Atlantic. He didn’t ask for anything this luxurious, but Brazil’s President had insisted he stay here, and it worked perfectly for his current situation because he is not alone, though no one knows that.

His companion is not inside the beautiful cabana, and Gabriel is not surprised when he finally tracks the other Gabriel down by the private pool in the back, reclined on a comfortable chaise longue facing the ocean far below them and soaking up the sun and heat. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of black shorts and sunglasses, which is quite unusual for Reaper, who normally goes around in a long black coat and a mask. The cabanas are private and Gabriel had asked that no cleaning services be done unless at his specific request, citing his possession of sensitive Overwatch documentation and equipment, and the President’s people had made sure that the hotel understood the request unconditionally. That means no one comes here and Reaper has all the privacy he needs to feel comfortable.

Gabriel has never seen his older self this comfortable. In fact, Gabriel had never seen any part of Reaper uncovered, aside from his face and long hair, so he is more than a little curious. His dark eyes roam across his older self’s form, noting that physically, Reaper isn’t all that different. At least right now (since he’d apparently ‘fed’ the night before). The older Gabriel is still muscular and well-built, broad-shouldered and powerful. But thirty years of battle and death have been etched into that glistening bronze skin like a story that needs to be told, and Gabriel is quietly in awe of the many scars his eyes trace over.

“If you’re going to stand there checking me out, at least buy me a drink first, _pendejo_ ,” Reaper says without looking in his direction.

Gabriel chuckles and steps forward, holding out a cold bottle of beer. “I did.”

The older Gabriel accepts it with a grunt, easily twisting off the cap and taking a swig.

“It’ll do,” he mutters.

Gabriel sits down in a nearby chair. He’d changed into swimming trunks before coming out here, and he had a bottle of beer for himself, too, as well as one of the bags of chocolate truffles. They linger in companionable silence for a while, content to simply lie in the sun. Gabriel wants to ask about some of the more vicious scars, but he is cautious about prodding Reaper for information, because his older self easily gets moody and is prone to disappearing when he gets upset. They’ve been alright on this trip so far, and he has no desire to ruin old Gabe’s obviously good mood at the moment.

So after a while, Gabriel starts talking about the “errands” he ran earlier, visiting the addresses in Rio that old Gabe had scouted for him overnight, discussing the viability of each of the three locations as an Overwatch base in South America. Reaper listens quietly, only occasionally adding a grunt of acknowledgement and sipping at his beer. It’s his decision to make, and Gabriel knows his older self won’t tell him what to do, but it helps to talk it out with himself anyway.

Their chat is abruptly interrupted when Gabriel’s phone dings with a message. He takes a swig of his beer as he looks at it. It’s Jack, with a random-as-fuck message. Gabriel chuckles.

“Jack says he’s thinking about fucking his older self,” he says, as he types back an amused response.

Old Gabe snorts. “He fucking would.”

He goes to take another sip of beer, but stops. Like a crack of lightning, it occurs to them both simultaneously. They suddenly sit up, look at each other, and say at the same time, “Wait, he’s serious!”

Gabriel sets his beer on the ground and types furiously in a flurry of messages that ends in a demand for a video or at least pictures. There isn’t a response and a few minutes later, Gabe is pacing restlessly back and forth by the pool.

“Call him,” Reaper says, lifting his sunglasses.

Gabe does, but he may as well have just let Reaper call Jack himself, considering how his phone gets commandeered almost immediately.

“Tentacle sounding?” Gabriel asks again when Reaper finally hangs up.

His older self just smirks at him and heads back into the cabana with the empty bottles of beer. Shaking his head, Gabe walks over to the wall that separates their cabana from the hillside, leaning sideways against it and gazing out at the incredible view. Absently, he lets one of the truffles melt in his mouth. The sweets have become soft in the heat of the day already, so he has chocolate on his hand, and after swallowing the truffle, he licks and sucks his fingers clean.

There is a sharp intake of breath behind him with an added, “ _Mierda_ ,” and Gabe looks back curiously.

“No!” old Gabe exclaims. “Go back to looking out at the view and sucking on your fingers.” He has a phone in hand and when Gabriel does as told, there are multiple clicking sounds. After a moment, he laughs to himself. “If you want to punish that little shit for being such a dicktease, start posing.”

Gabriel is smirking by now, and he has no problem with posing for the camera in various positions that show off his body. The sun and the little bit of perspiration on his skin make him glisten, and he has long since realized he is standing in the perfect spot to include the view of the pearly- white sand and the ocean. Gabriel knows he looks damn good, and he knows that these pictures will drive his Jack absolutely insane with desire. Hell, he’s sure it’ll drive old Jack insane, too.

A thought occurs to him, as he is doing yet another pose—this one with his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his trunks, pulling them down just enough to be suggestive, but not enough to be anything but an absolute tease. His eyes move past the camera phone to his older self, whose long salt-and-pepper hair is loose about his shoulders, stirred by the ocean breeze.

“I have an idea,” Gabriel says.

When old Gabe looks up curiously from the phone screen, the younger man gives him a suggestive grin.

“You’re serious?” For a moment they say nothing, just stare at each other. Reaper tilts his head back and gives a guttural laugh. “Holy shit, you are serious.”

“I just figure the Jacks could use a little encouragement,” Gabe replies innocently. “I’m a military commander by trade. I lead by example.”

Old Gabe laughs again as he looks around, trying to decide where to put the phone. There is a small tiki bar near the sliding glass door, and after flipping over an ice bucket to serve as a stand, old Gabe peers through the camera and then has young Gabe move slightly to the right to make room for him.

“I’m going to have to shoot this as video,” he says.

“I’ll grab some stills from it. The Jacks only get a small taste right now, until they pony up and deliver. They have to earn the video.”

“Kid, I like the way you think.”

“Yeah, duh. I should hope so.”

Old Gabe turns on the video and then hurries across the pool deck to join him. But when he gets to Gabe’s side, there’s some hesitation on his face.

“Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve seen what I look like…well, when I’m not at my best.”

Gabriel gives him a genuinely puzzled look. “So? Why would that bother me? It’s just a slightly different me.”

Reaper just grunts and shrugs. This close to each other and with the sunglasses off, Gabriel can see the tinge of red to his older self’s pupils. Some people might think it’s creepy, but he kind of thinks the red eyes make Reaper look cool.

Gabe has no qualms about this little game. Maybe that first time in Romania, when he realized what the future held for him, he freaked out a little (okay, maybe a lot). But that fear has since dissipated, both because Reaper assures him that they’ve already made changes, and because Reaper isn’t that bad. Gabriel is aware that his older self can’t taste anything (besides alcohol and coffee, weirdly), that he is in a constant state of pain, and that the nanites that keep him alive also make for some…interesting quirks. He wouldn’t wish that state on anyone, but it doesn’t make him fear Reaper himself. In fact, he has a great deal of respect for how the scarred man in front of him has survived and even thrived, despite fate dealing him a shitty hand.

Reaper is a total badass and that’s pretty damned attractive. Plus, Gabriel is well aware that Jack Morrison (both of them) thinks Gabriel Reyes (both of them) is the hottest man in the world. This is going to be way fun.

Thus, he’s smiling when the kissing starts, slow and steady at first. It’s weird, but mostly because Gabriel is not accustomed to kissing someone else with a beard. There’s a smoky and somewhat metallic taste to his older self (along with traces of the beer), but it’s not unpleasant. He feels a hand on his hip, pulling him closer, and he relaxes a bit more against the muscular chest, his own hands wrapping around old Gabe’s slender waist. He thinks they are just settling into a comfortable position when his older self suddenly pulls back with an odd look on his face.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” Gabriel asks, puzzled.

Old Gabe bites his lip, like he’s contemplating something. “No. It’s just…for a second, I thought I tasted chocolate. Which should be—”

“—impossible?” Gabe finishes for him, raising his brows.

The older man nods. Gabriel’s mind starts spiraling, thinking about how that could be, but then he is grabbed by the back of the neck and Reaper is pressing their lips together with almost bruising force, and Gabriel is being kissed by him with a hungry ferocity he’s only ever felt from Jack (both of them). Like his partner wants to devour him through the sheer force of kissing and might die if he doesn’t. The sudden escalation from light kissing to an all-out make out session is startling, but, well…it’s also incredibly hot. His fingers find their way into the long, luscious hair, and despite his initial surprise, Gabriel is now giving as good as he’s getting.

He has no idea how long they stand there in the Brazilian sun and wind, but it is far from an unpleasant experience, and he is even a little disappointed when old Gabe finally pulls away. Gabriel stays where he is, catching his breath as Reaper shadow-steps back to the tiki bar to turn off the camera.

“Yeah,” old Gabe says. “I definitely tasted chocolate.” Then he strolls back inside.

Shaking his head, Gabriel retrieves his now mostly melted bag of truffles and tosses them into the cabana’s refrigerator, before he settles at a desk with his laptop and the phone. He does some quick editing of the video to clean it up and picks out a few stills from the frames. When Reaper comes back from the cabana’s bedroom, Gabriel has a photo-editing app open and has just finished placing a white frame on the border of his chosen photograph. Old Gabe peers over his shoulder and chuckles, because his choice of the stills is one where there is very obvious tongue action going on, they both look really good in the sunlight, and the view of the ocean and the beach behind them is breathtaking. With a grin, Gabriel adds some text, which makes his older self burst into laughter.

Between the white border, the beach view, the cloudless sky, the brilliant sun, and the hot pair making out, it would have made a perfect postcard.

Especially with the words “Wish You Were Here” in the corner.

 

 

*******

Another gorgeous piece of art, a collab between TsuStar and Higo, inspired by this silly fic: http://tsu-star.tumblr.com/post/174979432763/did-a-collab-with-thatonekinkyfriendtrytobenice


	2. Your Move, Jackass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter now has fanart, courtesy of the wonderful Tsurili (https://twitter.com/Tsurili)
> 
> Check it out at the end of the work!

Jack watches his older self’s face closely as he gazes at the screen, taking in every detail of the bright, sunny scene by a pool in Rio, where two gorgeous, bronze-skinned, dark-haired men are apparently doing their best to get their tongues all the way down each other’s throats. The younger one has his fingers twined eagerly into the older one’s long, silver-streaked hair and the older one is gripping the younger around the small of his back, just above his very skimpy red swimming shorts. Old Jack’s jaw sets and his blue eyes flare suddenly to life.

“Oh, so that’s how they want to play it, huh?” he murmurs, in his coarse, smoky voice.

Jack is still straddling his lap, and in a surprisingly swift, easy motion, he pivots to swing his legs off the edge of the bed and slides an arm under Jack’s ass, lifting the equally tall, muscular man with him as he stands. Jack gasps at the sudden jostling, and at the effortlessness with which the man has lifted his entire body. _With one arm._ A shiver prickles up his spine, and he stares wide-eyed at his older self as he’s lowered gently to his feet. Old Jack is stronger than him. _Much stronger._ What other enhancements had he undergone in those intervening years?

He doesn’t have time to think about it, however. Old Jack is already striding out of the room, and Jack has to trot after him down the hall.

“Uh…what are we doing?” he asks, as he follows his older self into his own bedroom.

“Those fuckers just threw down a hell of a gauntlet,” old Jack says. He’s bending over the side of Jack’s bed, feeling along the platform frame at the edge of the mattress. Having apparently found what he’s looking for, he pauses, looking up at Jack with a keen spark in his blue eyes. “If it’s war they want, it’s war they’ll get.”

At this, he presses his fingers into the small indentation and a long, low, hidden drawer pops out from its seamless concealment in the base of the bed. Jack flushes pink, though he shouldn’t be embarrassed. He’s not even surprised, really. Of course old Jack would know exactly where he and Gabe keep their toys stashed away. Besides, this is the most animated he’s seen his older self since they met. It’s exhilarating (even a bit daunting, as old Gabe’s warning not to underestimate the old soldier rings in his ears). But Jack Morrison never backed down from a challenge. He swallows hard.

“Hell yeah they will,” he says, laughing a little too breathlessly. “What’s the plan?”

A mischievous smile curls the corners of old Jack’s lips. “That depends. I’ve got to see what kind of arsenal I have to work with first.”

Jack watches as he slides the drawer all the way open and peruses the selection of ropes, cuffs, collars, harnesses, floggers, dildos, clamps, gags, and other novel accessories, along with various types of lube for use with the different toys.

“Hm. Let’s start small,” old Jack says musingly. “They’re going to try to one-up us, so we don’t want to bring out the big guns too early.”

He tosses a long coil of silky black rope onto the bed, followed by a heavy, black-leather collar with a steel D-ring, then he sits on the edge of the bed and beckons. Jack can feel his face flushing deeper pink. His ears burn as he finds himself stepping meekly between the older man’s knees. He’s not wearing underwear, and his dick is tenting his blue sweatpants obscenely.

Old Jack hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down, letting his rigid cock spring free. Jack blushes harder and puts his hands on the broad, scarred shoulders to steady himself as he steps out of them. He gazes silently at the handsome, white-haired older man, almost panting with anticipation as the blue eyes travel slowly up and down his body.

“Fuck,” old Jack says at last, with a soft chuckle. “I always thought I was hot shit, but…it’s kind of nice to find out I was right.”

“You’re still hot shit, old man,” Jack purrs, reaching up to card his fingers through his still dense, silky, snow-white hair. “I think you’re hotter this way, personally. Battle-hardened and…experienced.”

As this last word drips off his tongue, Jack leans down and covers the older man’s mouth with his. Old Jack pulls him into the kiss, grasping him tightly about the waist and sliding his searching tongue forward to find Jack’s, just as eager and urgent. They fall back onto the bed together, groping and caressing each other’s bodies, their kiss intensifying till old Jack rolls his younger self onto his back and pins him by his wrists, pulling back to look down into his face.

“Jesus fuck!” young Jack sputters, gasping for breath. “You’re so—fucking sexy. How are you so much—stronger than me?”

“Sorry, kid,” old Jack says, with a sly smile. “Can’t let you in on all my secrets, can I?”

Jack pouts and squirms, trying to free himself from the older man’s iron grip, but to no avail. Old Jack laughs and kisses him again, holding him down under that hard, heavy body and quickly reducing him to a blissfully delirious wreck. After much too short a moment (as far as his younger self is concerned), old Jack pulls away. He ignores the blonde’s little whine of protest and gets up out of bed, pulling Jack with him.

“Go kneel,” he says, pointing to Jack’s closet, which consists of two mirrored sliding-doors. “Face the mirror and don’t move unless I tell you to.”

Jack blinks up at him for a split-second, then does as he is told. This certainly answers the question as to who will be running this show. He finds he is not inclined to debate the matter with a man who is himself, plus many years of military command and whatever physical augmentations he has beyond Jack’s own. Besides, he finds the idea of being dominated by this stronger, older man to be intensely arousing. Gabe has always been Jack’s senior, but not by enough to make any kind of material difference. This is new and thrilling in so many interesting ways. Old Jack approaches with the coil of rope and kneels behind him.

“Spread your legs wider,” he says gruffly, smiling as Jack hastily obeys. “Good. Good boy.”

Jack’s heart pounds as his wrists are yanked behind his back and quickly bound with an expert hand. The even lengths of rope left trailing from the knot are then used to bind his wrists securely to his ankles, forcing his back to arch slightly and effectively immobilizing him in this kneeling posture. He grins up at his older self in the mirror, giving a lascivious little thrust of his hips to call attention to his cock, standing ruddy and erect between his legs.

Old Jack smirks and goes to the bed. He comes back with the collar and Jack’s phone and kneels behind him again. Jack gives a little gasp as the stiff, heavy collar is fastened around his neck, almost tight enough to restrict his breathing.

“Perfect,” old Jack growls, low and soft in his ear. “Pretty as a picture.”

He takes Jack suddenly by his hair and jerks his head backward, exposing his collared throat and making him arch his spine even further. Jack doesn’t see him take the picture, but he hears the phone’s camera shuttering rapidly. He almost doesn’t care. His head is spinning and his chest heaves with ragged, panting breaths. His cock is throbbing and drooling, aching for relief, but his older self doesn’t touch it. He keeps Jack in that position, head held securely by his golden-blonde hair, as he selects a photo and types a message. After he sends it, he releases him and holds the phone up where he can see the screen.

The picture he chose is stunning, even to Jack. His older self had pulled his head back unexpectedly in order to catch his genuinely startled expression, evidenced by his parted lips and beautifully flushed cheeks. The collar looks excruciatingly tight around his neck, and his widely-spread thighs and the convex plane of his muscular torso display his big, thick cock to exceptional effect. The most striking thing about the photo, however, is the older Jack’s intense gaze. His brilliant, storm-blue eyes are fixed keenly on the camera, and there is a hint of a playful smirk on his lips. It looks like what it is. A challenge.

The message reads: Jack would love to tell you what he thought of the picture you sent, but he’s all tied up at the moment.

 

****

 

“You think they’ll take the bait?” young Gabe asks. “I mean I know Blondie would, but what about the other Jack?”

The older Gabriel has drifted away from the desk. He’s standing at the sliding glass doors, looking out at the ocean.

“The old man might be a grump, but he’s still Jack Morrison,” he replies absently. “He doesn’t know when to stop, even when he’s outclassed. They’ll respond.”

If young Gabe notices his distraction, he gives no indication of it. He bounces to his feet with a laugh. “Well, then knowing Jackie the way I do…I don’t think the video we have is going to cut it. We’ll have to do better.”

Gabriel grunts, which his younger self takes as acquiescence. He says something about getting ready and then dashes off towards the cabana’s bedroom, laptop and phone in hand. Gabriel rolls his eyes at the youthful energy, but he can’t help but smile anyway.

**We like him.**

Reaper, the AI hive-mind that governs the nanites that keep him alive, has an opinion to share. Of course it does, the chatty AI always has an opinion on shit.The vast majority of the time, he finds talking to Reaper taxing to his patience, and he usually cannot get the AI to be quiet.

_I mean, you should, it’s me_ , Gabriel responds with an inward sigh. 

**We do not really like you. We are programmed to keep you alive. But the younger you is very pleasant.**

_Thanks…I think?_

He wanders into the kitchenette, opening the fridge and taking out the bag of truffles the other Gabe had tossed in there a few minutes ago. They haven’t been in there long enough to harden, so he scoops a bit of melted chocolate onto a finger and sucks it down.

“Of course,” he grumbles aloud.

It was too good to be true. He can only taste burnt metal, just like everything he has tried to eat since the explosion. Alcohol and coffee are the only things that taste different to him. But that was why he’d been so startled at the sweetness when he’d kissed his younger self. A familiar sliver of anger and resentment burns in his chest. With a growl, he goes to throw the offending bag of treats, when much to his surprise, he realizes he has manifested his gloves with the steel-tipped claws, one of which is now stuck in the wood. Well shit. Hopefully nobody notices the damage after they leave here. With a hiss of annoyance, he extracts the claw, tosses the chocolate back in the fridge, and turns around just as young Gabe comes back into the room, still bare-chested and in just those tiny red swimming trunks.

“What the fuck? Why are you wearing your combat gear?” the younger man asks. 

“Because black leather is kinky,” Gabriel snarls back. Of course he hadn’t _meant_ to put on his Reaper outfit, but he isn’t about to say so.

Young Gabe looks at him up and down. “I mean, yeah, but this is a bit much, don’t you think? Maybe get rid of the extra belts and the guns? Oh! Get rid of the shirt, but leave the coat. And I think the mask would work, if you want that too.”

His phone dings from the bedroom and he’s off again to get it. Gabriel blinks after him, then looks down at himself and with a shrug does as suggested, leaving his muscular chest bare. His heavily-armored combat boots are a bit much too, he thinks, so he gets rid of them and instead, has the nanites manifest regular knee-high black boots. Better. Honestly, this outfit is still too much, but fuck it. He’s always been accused of being extra. Might as well roll with it.

“ _Oh, holy shit!_ ” he hears Gabe shout.

Holding his white mask in his hand, Gabriel follows the sound. Before the message came in, young Gabe had been busy. All the furniture has been moved to a corner out of the way, except for the elegant four-poster bed which is still in its place by the window. The laptop has been set up on the armoire in the corner, from where its camera will pick up most of the room. Before Gabriel can ask about the setup, the phone is pushed into his hand. He stares at the photo for a moment, mouth slightly open.

“Oh, holy shit,” he echoes.

His dick twitches in sudden interest at the gorgeous sight of naked Jack, helplessly tied up and collared, but it is the intense blue eyes of the older Jack that catches his gaze. He knows that look, and it is not one he has seen in some time on the tired old soldier’s face. It is the look of a man who refuses to be conquered. And _Dios_ , he cannot help the thrill that slides down his spine at the thought.

“Time to get serious. Turn on that camera,” he growls.

There is a mirror on the wall to his left, and he checks himself out. The kid is right. Being bare-chested under the coat works. He glances over the many scars and old bullet wounds and doesn’t really mind the sight of them. They tell an important story of a lifetime spent fighting for things he cared about. But his face bothers him, because even though his recent feeding means he is capable of maintaining his human visage, he knows what actually lies beneath. His eyes are glowing bright red at the moment. They do that when he gets angry or excited, and they are a reminder of the monster that he is. He slots his mask into place, glad for the cover it provides, and pulls up the cowl of his coat, though he doesn’t bother sweeping his hair back first, so strands of it are visible.

It still vaguely puzzles him that neither young Gabriel nor young Jack seem to care about his monstrous body. They ought to be horrified. But they are young and kinky, after all. He doesn’t quite know what old Jack thinks, but if his actions during Gabe’s bad pain days are any indication, at the very least the old soldier must pity him. He is certain that is worse than outright disgust.

“Ready?” young Gabriel asks.

Gabriel gives an assenting nod, then realizes they never actually discussed what they were doing. _No matter_ , he thinks, _we can wing it_.

He assumes moving the furniture has something to do with the possibility of rough sex and maybe avoiding having to explain to the President’s people why the cabana was trashed. Good planning. Things might get wild. Not to mention weird. Young Gabriel activates the camera and then walks over to him.

“Checking yourself out?” he says, pointing at the mirror. “You narcissist.”

“Says the one who was checking out his future self by the pool earlier. And making out with him,” Gabriel replies. He slides a gloved hand behind the younger man’s head and exerts a bit of downward pressure. “On your knees, kid. Time to put that sassy mouth to good use.”

But Gabe resists him. “Excuse me?” He ducks, slipping out from beneath the clawed grip, his dark eyes narrowed. “Who died and put you in charge?”

“Literally me. Plus I have seniority,” Gabriel growls menacingly.

“And I still actually have a rank,” his younger self growls back. “That’s ‘sir’ to you, by the way.”

_Cocky little punk_ , Gabriel thinks. He is amused, though, and he is sure the Jacks will be amused too.

He crosses his arms on his chest and laughs. “You don’t want to get into a dominance battle with me, Gabe. Sorry to break it to you, but you will lose. Might as well submit now.”

His younger self’s eyes harden. “We’ll see about that.”

The older man considers him for a moment before he finally chuckles. “Alright, fine. I’ll even handicap myself. No smoke monster powers. Just brute force.”

**Rude** , Reaper opines.

_Shut the fuck up, I’m busy._

**We are rooting for him.**

_Fucking traitors._

“We need a safe word,” he says aloud.

For a moment, he thinks young Gabriel is going to resist even that, but safe words are serious business. He only thinks about it for a few seconds.

“ _Picanha_ ,” he says.

Beneath his mask, Gabe smiles. “Figures. Always goddamn hungry. Just like Reaper.”

**We do hunger** , the AI says immediately.

_Exactly my point. Shut up._

“What’s wrong? You jealous of me and Reaper?” Gabe snaps back.

He’s hyped up, bouncing on the balls of his bare feet. Gabriel counts to five. He knows the younger man is becoming aggressive so he doesn’t take the jab over his inability to eat to heart.

Still, he cannot help the sneer in his voice. “I’m telling you, quit now while you’re ahead, brat, before you get a serious beat down. This is your final warn—”

Something flashes in those dark eyes and Gabriel only has half a second to realize he’s stepped over some kind of boundary before there’s a fist connecting with his mask. His younger self might not be a smoke monster, but he is still a super soldier, impossibly fast and incredibly strong. The mask shatters in half and his head snaps back under the force of the blow, even as he staggers back. The broken half of his mask falls to the floor, but the other half stays in place.

**You deserved that.**

“Asshole!” young Gabriel growls, launching himself at him.

Gabriel doesn’t respond. As he is tackled to the ground, he acts instinctively, wrapping his arms around the younger man and flipping them over, and tries to pin him down. He is physically much stronger, but young Gabriel is hardly defeated. He squirms and manages to get a knee up between them and shoves Gabriel off with a growl. Then he rolls away and starts to scramble up, but he’s not fast enough. Gabriel is already on him again, trying to lock his arms behind him.

“Submit,” he growls into the younger man’s ear.

“No,” Gabe responds.

He snaps his head back, but it was expected and Gabriel manages to not get knocked in the jaw. Still, his grip on the younger man is loosened and he slips away, spinning around instantly just as the older man gets to his feet. The incoming kick is also expected but it is delivered with enough force to throw Gabriel off balance for a few precious seconds.

The problem with fighting yourself is that you already know what you are going to do every step of the way. They fight and wrestle and squirm on the ground for several minutes, always ready for the block or the feint or the attack that comes next, with neither one of them gaining any ground. There is a fire burning in young Gabriel’s smoldering eyes and despite his focus, old Gabriel is having the time of his life. Only Jack Morrison has ever complimented him this perfectly in a fight before and that was always a turn-on. And _hoo boy_ is Gabriel turned on, his dick hard and pressing urgently with a need to get out of those tight black pants.

Then the moment he’s been waiting for happens. His younger self makes an error, probably born of sheer, youthful impatience. He falls for a feint he shouldn’t have, and Gabriel can see his expression change the second he realizes it and tries to pull back. But by then Gabriel has him. They end up on the floor, young Gabe on his stomach, and despite his squirming and thrashing, he’s not getting out of this one. Locked on, Gabriel forces them both to their knees, his thighs tightening securely around his younger self. Young Gabe is breathing heavily and beads of sweat glisten on his forehead. He tries one more time to squirm free, but Gabriel pulls and twists his arms back, causing the younger man to hiss in pain.

“Submit,” Gabriel says quietly in his ear. He shifts enough to press his hardness against the other man’s ass. “We both know you want to. See, I know your dirty little secret, the one you’ve never told anyone, not even Jack Morrison.”

He waits, giving Gabe plenty of time to use his safe word to get out of this, but the younger man just lets out a deep breath, much of his earlier tension draining.

“Jesus fuck, you’re strong,” he says instead.

“Yup. And you love it,” Gabriel replies. He slips a claw under Gabriel’s chin, gently lifting his face and turning him towards the red light of the camera. “Would you like to tell the viewers at home what your secret is, or should I?”

The younger man tosses his head defiantly, pulling away from the claw. “I mean, it’s your secret too, pendejo.”

There is an amused undertone to his voice as he points this out. Gabriel chuckles in response.

“I think it’s worth revealing for this, don’t you?” He slowly rubs his hard cock against the younger man. There is a soft gasp and a slight arching of the back in response. “ _Gabrrrriel_ ,” he purrs, saying his name in Spanish and rolling the r, “do you submit?”

He feels the shiver that runs down his younger self’s spine.

“Yes,” comes the soft response.

Gabriel isn’t satisfied. He twists Gabe’s arm a little more, drawing another hiss of pain. “I don’t think you said that clearly enough for the camera. Do you submit?”

“I submit!” young Gabe growls. He glares at the camera, as if it is to blame for his current predicament.

Gabriel loosens the hold he has on his arms, just enough to ease the pain. With his free hand he once again lifts the younger man’s face, pushing him against his chest. Young Gabe is still breathing hard, heaving underneath the claw that now slowly travels down his bronze chest, lightly enough not to really hurt him but enough that the steel claws leave a trail of red as they go. The younger man’s breath hitches as the hand brushes delicately against his pleasure trail. A claw slides into the waistband of his pants.

“Your dirty little secret is that you _want_ to be conquered.” The claw yanks his trunks down his thighs, freeing a dripping, painfully-hard cock. “Isn’t that right?”

Young Gabe arches his back as the cool air hits his bare skin. He makes a strangled sound as the flat, cold side of a steel claw brushes briefly against his dick and his hips cant a little, as if chasing the sensation.

Almost as an afterthought, he seems to recall he was asked a question. “Yes!”

“Romania doesn’t count. You submitted without a fight, just for the rare opportunity to get fucked by two Jack Morrisons. I respect your decision-making process.” Gabriel chuckles as he notices Gabe’s cock twitch, probably to the memory of that experience. “But that’s not what we’re talking about. It’s not what you _need_. Now, Blondie over here,” he says, pointing a claw at the camera, “he’s come close. During SEP, he almost defeated you a few times. Almost, but not quite. Spoiler alert: he will get stronger. Maybe he will beat you in a fight sometime, eh? And _my_ Jack, he can definitely take you. But he’s not here.” He shoots a mischievous grin at the camera. “What a shame. Bet you wish you were.”

**Is it our turn now? Can we play? Will there be no pain today?**

Reaper has been quiet since the fight started, but now it sounds quite eager, and Gabriel is in too good a mood to not indulge the AI. Thus, a slender tendril of shadow, unseen by the camera, slips quietly from him and gently touches the younger man’s perfect, round ass. Young Gabe obviously feels the touch, judging from the resulting twitch, but he probably doesn’t realize what it is. At least, not until the tentacle prods gently at his opening. It is merely a teasing touch, not even any penetration, but it certainly gets a reaction.

Gabe lets out a hoarse, “ _Holy fuck!_ ”

He snaps up straight as his thighs, hindered by his pants, instinctively try to spread and open himself further. His back arches and his impressive cock jerks against his stomach, the tip shining with even more pre-come. His arms are still being held behind him. Not painfully, just a gentle restraint that he doesn’t fight. Gabriel summons more Reaper tentacles to wrap around the younger man’s wrists, and embraces him from behind in his powerful arms. Instinctively, young Gabe leans back against him, and Gabriel rests the exposed half of his face against the other man’s cheek. He dissipates his gloves into a fine black smoke, and slides a hand down the muscular chest and flat stomach.

“Please,” the younger man groans when the hand stops on his abdomen. He shudders again as the tentacle teasingly caresses his sensitive opening. “Haaa—Gabe, _please_ , touch me!”

Gabriel ignores the plea. He’s busy grinning at the camera as an unseen tentacle crosses the floor and hits the screen to stop the recording. Now that the camera is off, he tightens his arms around his counterpart.

“I need to go send this video to these assholes. You are to get undressed, go to the bed, place your hands on one of those posts, and stand there waiting for me. If you try to touch yourself at all, this game will stop. Understand?”

Gabe groans, but he nods and does as he’s told. As he approaches the laptop, Gabriel absently rips off the half of the mask and tosses it aside. He doesn’t care that it’s broken, because the nanites can just reform it. Plus it was an excellent punch, not to mention probably well-deserved for acting like an asshole. It’s true he always knew the younger man couldn’t beat him, but it was kind of rude to treat him the way he did at first. He’ll make it up to him soon. He scans through the video quickly, skipping around just to make sure it’s to his liking. He grins. The Jacks are going to receive six minutes and ten seconds of quality footage featuring two Gabriels fighting for dominance, a very nice submission, and ending on an absolutely gorgeous, arching young Gabe begging to be touched.

He cannot help but taunt Soldier:76 with an added message: _Your move, Jackass._

 

_*****_

Fan Art of the Jacks by Tsurili (see notes for a direct link, as well as a link to a more nsfw version)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fan art by the fabulous Tsurili (https://twitter.com/Tsurili/status/1004085821308391425). 
> 
> There's a more NSFW version as well: https://www.patreon.com/posts/jack76-19269555


	3. Go Fuck Yourselves

Jack has been in a state of suspense bordering on agony since his older self sent the picture to the Gabes. To his immense frustration, old Jack seems thoroughly content to sit behind him, gazing off into space and stroking his chest and stomach. After what seems to be a life-age of the earth, he asks how long it’s been. Old Jack picks up the phone and glances at it, and tells him it’s been six minutes.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” Jack groans, writhing against the ropes. “I’m gonna fucking die. Do we have to wait for them?”

“Oh, I’m not waiting for them,” old Jack says innocently. “I’m just enjoying making _you_ wait.”

As casually as if the younger man’s body is his own property, his hand slips down between Jack’s legs and fondles his aching cock, grazing over his balls, palming idly up the shaft, and squeezing a little around the sensitive head. It’s a strange sensation to Jack. It feels almost exactly how his own hand does when he touches himself. Only it’s not his hand. But it sort of is.

He rolls this idea around vaguely in his head, but he can’t think clearly. He’s not getting enough pressure or friction to get off, and the contact is only tormenting him further. He whines and drops his head back onto the other man’s shoulder, arching his back wantonly in the mirror as he tries in vain to thrust into the caress. Old Jack laughs softly and leans down to press his mouth to Jack’s. Their tongues have just barely met when he draws back suddenly.

“Video,” he says.

“Hm? What?” Jack murmurs, less interested in what he’s saying than why he’s stopped kissing him and petting his cock.

“That’s why it’s taking so long to get a response. Those two fuckers—”

“—are making a goddamned video,” Jack interrupts, finishing the sentence as his mind catches hold of the idea. “Fucking Gabe. Of course they are.”

“Well, we’d better get to work then,” old Jack says, with a wicked grin.

“You want to untie me?” Jack asks optimistically. “So I can help set up the video stuff?”

“Ha! Nice try, kid,” the older man smirks. “I’m not that old. I can figure out a laptop and a camera bug. You guys have those already, right?”

Jack nods. “Yeah, there are a couple in a box in the hall closet.”

Despite his sarcastic remark, old Jack frees the younger man’s ankles, leaving his arms bound, but allowing him to get more comfortable. Jack sits on the edge of the bed, stretching his stiff legs and back. While his older self is gone fetching the things he wants, Jack’s phone vibrates on the nightstand. He huffs and wriggles in his restraints. Under duress, he could probably just break the ropes, but he doubts the old man would view his impatience to see the message from the Gabes as an urgent situation, so he waits.

“Hey, we got a message,” he says, nodding toward the phone, as his older self returns with the camera bug and Jack’s laptop.

“Good,” old Jack says. He picks up the phone and sets down the laptop and camera. “Well, we were right. It’s a video. Six minutes, Jesus. Let’s watch it first, then I’ll set this up.”

Jack nods eagerly as the old Jack sits up against the headboard, then he clambers awkwardly over to him and flops down on his side with his head on the older man’s chest. Old Jack holds the phone so that they can both see it, and touches the screen.

Two pairs of blue eyes go wide as they watch what can only be classified as the sexiest wrestling match of all time. Jack gasps when his Gabe breaks Reaper’s mask, but old Jack laughs aloud.

“He deserved that,” he says. “And don’t worry. He’ll be fine. He’s going easy on the kid.”

Jack isn’t so sure, but he’s too riveted by what’s happening to dwell on it. Two hard, muscular, dusky-bronze bodies thrashing and struggling against each other, one half-masked and bare-chested, in a leather coat and pants, and the other in skimpy swimming shorts which entirely fail to conceal the big, gorgeous cock straining against the tight fabric.

They both know the Gabes are fighting in real earnest, and old Jack is almost embarrassed by how much this is getting to him. That is, until he glances down at the blonde, to see his cheeks flushed and lips parted, eyelids heavy with desire as he gazes raptly on the screen. When Gabe finally gets the kid under control, old Jack is just as enthralled as young Jack, but it’s less by the beautiful naked body of the younger Gabriel, and more by his Gabe’s words; clearly meant specifically for _him_ , and accompanied by that devilish grin. He only remembers to breathe when the video ends and he hears Jack exhale sharply, as if he’s been holding his breath too.

He sets the phone down and gets up to stick the camera to the headboard, then he peels off his black underwear. Smirking at young Jack’s palpably impatient expression, he sits back down on the bed and opens the laptop on the nightstand to get the scene in focus on the screen. When he’s satisfied, he taps the key to record and pulls the blonde into his lap.

Jack straddles him eagerly and rocks his hips, grinding his ass on the rigid length of the older man’s cock. His eyelids flutter shut as old Jack cups his balls, lazily hefting and caressing them, but ignoring his weeping, tormented cock for the moment.

“Mmmm…I want…” the blonde groans, rolling his hips again.

“What do you want, baby,” the older Jack says, low and hoarse. “Tell me.”

“Want to suck—ah!” Jack gives a little cry as he’s jerked roughly forward by the collar he’d forgotten he was wearing, and held within millimeters of his older self’s face.

He can feel hot, damp breath on his lips as the older man purrs, “You want daddy’s cock? Ask nice, like a good boy.”

Jack’s breath hitches at the words. This particular kink is entirely new to him. The sensation of being restrained and at his older self’s mercy is keeping him in a tense state of arousal, making his already sensitive skin tingle with every motion and touch. He is dizzy and trembling with something almost like fear, but he wants it so badly he can practically taste it. His eyelashes drop over his blue eyes and his face flushes deep crimson.

“Please, daddy,” he whispers. “I—I want to suck your cock.”

Old Jack growls approvingly and rolls Jack off his lap. He stands on his knees, glancing at the screen to be sure the scene is framed in good profile, then drags Jack by the collar to kneel facing him. He gazes at the young version of himself for a beat, then pulls him into a deep kiss, stroking their cocks together in his big, calloused hand. Young Jack collapses against his broad, hard chest, moaning into the kiss as his aching cock finally gets some relief. It’s short-lived, however. He gives a yelp as old Jack grabs a fistful of his hair and pushes his head down. Jack tries to turn his head to search for his cock with his open, eager mouth, but his older self holds him fast against his hip.

“You want my cock, baby?” he rumbles. “Beg for it. Tell daddy how much you want it.”

“Please!” Jack sputters breathlessly, twisting and straining at the rope around his wrists. “I want it s—so bad…please give me your cock, daddy, _please_!”

The older Jack takes his cock in his hand and taps the young man’s pouting bottom lip with it. He sucks his breath in sharply as Jack’s pink tongue darts out to lap the slick of pre-ejaculate from the swollen, ruddy head. Still holding Jack firmly by his golden-blonde hair, he eases his cock into his mouth. He gives a shudder and has to resist thrusting as Jack’s tongue rolls over it, flicking and teasing it, already trying to suck him deeper.

He wants to make him wait, but he knows he won’t last long this round, so they may as well put on a good show. He hooks his thumb into the side of the boy’s mouth between his teeth, and pushes slowly and steadily into the wet, sucking heat till Jack’s nose is buried in his silvery-white pubic hair. He groans as Jack swallows around it, squeezing tight, milking his dick without the hint of a gag reflex. He’d always prided himself on giving better head than a French whore, and now he’s experiencing it for himself. He had not been mistaken.

“Jesus—you feel so good,” he pants. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, ok?”

Jack gives a thumbs up, so he grips the blonde hair in both fists and fucks his younger self’s mouth in earnest, bottoming out against the back of Jack’s throat with each thrust till he’s shaking and ready to burst.

Tears spill down Jack’s pink cheeks and his jaw is nearly cracking with the strain of swallowing the big, thick shaft, but he’s not daunted. He raises two fingers behind his back, meaning “harder.”

This sends the older man over the edge. He gives a few more sharp pumps, then yanks his cock out and comes forcefully, spurting hot, milky-white streaks all over the blonde’s pretty face. He rides out the spasms, hanging onto his twitching cock and caressing Jack’s hair. Then he takes his silky-blonde head in his hands and turns him toward the camera, so the Gabes can enjoy a long look at his beautiful face, wrecked and covered with come and tears before he ends the recording.

He sends the video with the message: Thought you’d like to see me exercising some _self control_. Maybe you’ll be inspired by my example…

 

****

 

Gabe has been kept standing in the same spot for what feels like an eternity, facing one of the bed posts with his hands held above him and securely wrapped around it. They aren’t tied by any mundane means, or even so much as a tendril of smoke. He doesn’t _want_ to move, because he knows that if he does, he will never get any relief.

And oh _god_ did he need relief. After the video had been sent off, old Gabriel had come up behind him, yanked on his hips to force his back to arch and his legs to spread as he presented himself, producing a small whine of protest when he just walked away afterwards, without touching him any further.

Now Reaper is reclined on the bed in front of him, leaning back against the headboard, legs casually splayed. He has unzipped the tight leather pants to let his impressive dick free. He is casually scrolling through something on Gabe’s phone, and occasionally stroking his own throbbing cock.

Despite his apparent lack of interest in the proceedings, he is making Gabe nearly sob. The entire time Reaper has been on the bed, tendrils of shadow have been keeping Gabe in a constant state of arousal. They ghost teasingly over his balls and weeping cock, gently touch the ruddy head, but mostly they’ve been busy stretching him open, preparing him to receive that large dick. He desperately wants to come, but it’s like old Gabriel senses when he’s close, and then the tentacles will stop long enough to let him wind down before they are back again. It’s enough to make him want to cry out in frustration at the sweet torture, but he knows better than to complain.

At the very least, he knows that the noises of longing he makes are getting to the older man, judging from the way his dick remains hard and beads of pre-come glisten on the tip.

And maybe that is why after what seems like a long time old Gabriel rises from the bed, dropping the phone on the nightstand, and walks up to the trembling younger man. Gently old Gabriel runs his fingers through the longer strands of dark hair on Gabe’s head, his other hand rubbing across the shaved lower portion. Goose bumps rise upon Gabe’s skin at the tender touch at his neck and he shivers.

“You’re doing good, _chamaco_ ,” old Gabriel says softly. “It will be worth the wait, I promise.”

He slips in front of Gabe and gently lowers his arms, letting them rest on his own broad shoulders. Then he is pressing his hard cock against the younger man’s. Gabe groans, both at the rest from the stress position and at the welcome contact, leaning against the bare, muscular chest and silently marveling at how hot his older self’s skin is to the touch.

He throws his head back when gun-calloused fingers travel down his chest and abdomen, knowing exactly which spots are sensitive (and just a touch ticklish), and eliciting soft gasps from him. When those powerful hands settle around his hips, he is pulled flush against Reaper’s chest, and lips find the spot on his neck where he likes to be nuzzled. He makes a whimpering sound when those lips suck the salt from his skin, sure to leave a visible bruise that he will have to cover up tomorrow during his meetings.

Then he is being kissed, softly at first, until he feels the other man’s tongue pushing into him with an urgency that belies Reaper’s previous appearance of disinterest. Gabe threads his fingers through his older self’s long hair underneath the hood.

This really ought to be far weirder than it is, he thinks. Especially with the tendrils of black smoke that swirl around him, curling at times around his limbs, caressing his sensitive skin, and still sometimes teasingly touching him in intimate places. He almost bites Reaper when one of the tendrils slips into his ass once more and begins to swell, continuing to stretch him. His knees go weak from the sensation and his older self’s powerful arms wrap around him securely to support him.

“Gabe!” he moans, throwing his head back. The tendril nudges at the tender knot of nerves and he gasps and presses desperately against the muscular body, looking for relief. “Oh, god, _please_ …”

“ _Paciencia_ ,” old Gabriel rumbles in his ear.

Gabe doesn’t want to be patient anymore. He wants to be fucked in earnest already, whether it is by tentacles or by that glorious cock, he doesn’t care. He sure as shit doesn’t want to wait for the next picture or video, or whatever the fuck the Jacks are cooking up. Right at this moment he is hyper-focused on the tentacle that is fucking him so slowly that he wants to scream. No wonder his Jack had been so goddamn vocal in Romania that day.

His skin feels like it’s on fire and there is an odd, tingling sort of feedback that happens when the tentacles make contact. He has some awareness that it has to do with the fact that in Bucharest, Reaper had made him inhale a small cloud of his nanites. Gabe remembers freaking out at first, but they had proven useful in the last few months of the Crisis, because they enhance his already fast super-soldier healing. Now, though, it feels like they are responding to his excitement, thrumming through him in anticipation, reacting to the touches of their host cloud. He thinks they are making him even more sensitive than he normally is, and it is driving him a little mad.

A ding from the phone on the nightstand interrupts. Old Gabriel disengages from the kiss and the tendril dissipates into nothing, leaving Gabe gasping and shivering from the sudden loss of contact. Christ, somehow, some way, he is going to get revenge on his older self for reducing him to an absolute needy mess.

Of course, it doesn’t help his situation any when they watch the video together, because goddamn is it hot to watch his blonde boyfriend sucking off his equally as hot older self. That last beautiful image of Jack with his face covered in come and tears is not one he will soon forget.

“Oh, my fucking _god_ ,” Gabe groans, and he can’t help but reach for his aching cock.

His hand is stopped by the other Gabe, who chuckles before spinning him around and pressing his back to the bedpost he’s really starting to hate. Old Gabriel pulls both of Gabe’s arms behind him, pressing his hands to the post once more.

“Are you ready for the main event, Gabrielito?” he asks.

“I’ve been ready, _cabrón_ ,” Gabe snaps. “Get on with it.”

Old Gabriel snorts. “We’ll see. Stay there while I move the camera closer. Time to blow their minds. Or blow something, anyway.”

The camera is moved and turned on, and by the time old Gabriel comes back to him, Gabe is trembling again. Something about the way he is staring at his older self seems to take him aback, because a strange expression crosses Reaper’s face.

He partially dissolves the lower half of his body and floats over to Gabriel, red eyes glowing intensely. “Look at you. We accuse Jack of being a kinky little shit, but you’re practically drooling at the thought of getting fucked by a monster.”

It’s only then that Gabe notices Reaper has done away with his tight, black pants (and of course, the boots are gone, too, since he currently has no legs). He has only kept the black coat on, the hood still drawn up, and his form is hazy and smoky.

Somehow, that’s just incredibly sexy and Gabe licks his lips. “You’re literally the only person who thinks you’re a monster. You’re just me with some differences, _pendejo._ And the Jacks don’t give a shit either. Why don’t you shut the fuck up and take me already? You made a big deal out of conquering me but you’re taking your goddamn sweet time to claim your prize.”

“What a mouthy little fuck you suddenly are with the camera rolling, when earlier you were a begging mess.” Reaper chuckles, a guttural sound that goes right to Gabe’s dick. “I told you to have patience. But first…” A tendril of shadow wraps gently around his drooling cock. “You were so curious about this earlier.”

Gabe has never actually experienced this, though he has seen enough porn in his life to know about it and be utterly curious. He watches with almost clinical detachment as the tendril of shadow thickens before it slips into the slit at the tip of his dick. It takes a moment for the very odd sensation of being filled in a place that isn’t really designed to be filled to even register.

And then he is yelling. He is pretty sure he’s going to outright break the bed post any second now, but he can’t help the way his hands tighten around it, or the way his hips begin to thrust almost wildly to the beat of that tendril sliding in and out, stretching and filling him in a way he’s never felt before. He has no real idea what he is saying, he just knows he is being quite vocal, and he is pretty sure this experience has broken the part of his brain that commands languages, because he is crying out to his Maker in three different tongues at the very least.

And Reaper, goddamn him, continues to just float in front him, partially dissolved in black mist, arms crossed on his muscular chest. His eyes glow a brilliant red and there is a smirk on his scarred, handsome face. From somewhere, Gabriel summons a memory of something Jack had said to describe him back during SEP: _sexy panther_. He had chuckled at the time, but he has a sudden epiphany as to what that means: graceful, beautiful, powerful…but an apex predator, on the prowl and dangerous.

The thought is thrilling and Gabe would spend more time thinking about it, except that he feels like his insides are melting at the hot electrical charge of an orgasm building. And then, just like that, the tendril dissipates into fine black smoke.

Gabe howls in frustration. “Noooo! Gabriel, _please!_ Please, god, I’m so _close_ …”

He is gasping for breath and nearly in tears. He barely feels the hand yanking almost painfully on his hair, forcing him away from the post and over to the center of the bed. At some point, old Gabriel had reformed his body and shrugged off his black coat. His cock glistens with lube as he lies down on his back and black tendrils pull Gabriel closer. He kneels obediently on the bed, thighs straddling his older self. He moans at the feel of that hard dick against his ass cheeks and he wantonly rubs against it, signaling how much he wants it.

Gabriel does not make him wait for it. He throws a side glance at the laptop nearby just to be sure they are framed right before he goes back to the business at hand. He is grasping his own cock by the base, holding it steady, and with his other hand he exerts pressure on the younger man’s hips. Responding to the touch, young Gabe positions himself above him and slowly begins to lower himself. Barely has the head of his cock breached when young Gabe gasps, dark eyes wide open.

“ _Holy shit!_ ” he yells.

His nails dig into the older man’s bare chest. This is exactly why Gabriel had spent a lot of time stretching him earlier. Not only for the sweet torture aspect—that was just a bonus—but because Gabe is aware that while Jack Morrison is not a small man in this department (not at all), he is simply not as girthy as the Reyes clan. Gabe has never bottomed for anyone else besides Jack, since there was no one else worthy of that much trust, so this is a new experience.

Still, the safe word isn’t going to be uttered. Gabriel can tell by the look of concentration on the younger man’s face that this is not a challenge he is going to back down from. His body trembles and sweat drips down his glistening bronze skin as he slowly lowers himself further onto the older man’s cock. He’s almost _too_ eager to do it, and much to his obvious frustration, Gabriel maintains a bruising hold on his hips to slow him down. He doesn’t want to hurt the kid, after all.

By the time he bottoms out, young Gabe’s chest is heaving with the effort and he is openly panting. Gabriel doesn’t move yet, both to give him time to get used to the stretch and burn, and also to get his own control back.

“Fucking hell, you’re so goddamn tight,” he growls. A mischievous fire lights in the dark eyes above him and he feels the hot, silken body clench around him. He can't help the startled gasp that comes out of him.

“Stop…stop fucking doing that,” he says menacingly, after a moment.

Young Gabe just laughs. “Bet I can make you come before I do.”

“You already lost the fight earlier, kid,” Gabriel replies.

“I lost a fight. Doesn’t mean I lost the war. I don’t lose wars. It’s written in my DNA.”

**He has a point.**

The AI has been oddly quiet this entire time, which has been a blessing and Gabriel thinks he needs to get laid more often, if that’s what it takes to make the hive mind shut the fuck up. He ignores the nanites and instead, laughter threatens to bubble up out of his chest.

But then the younger man is moving, lifting himself up. When he slides back down that huge cock, stars all but burst in Gabriel’s vision and he squeezes his eyes shut, nails digging into the younger man’s thighs, gritting his teeth as he fights to hold back the coming explosion. What feels like lightning crackles at the base of his spine and he spits out curses and moans, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to lose this so easily goddammit.

“It’s like old Jack said in his last message. Exercise some… _self control_ ,” young Gabe taunts in between his own gasps. He is riding Gabriel hard now, sweat making both their bodies gleam. “I don’t know, though, you are thirty years older than me. Like, you probably don’t have the stamina anymore.”

“Oh, you fucking little shit,” Gabriel growls.

He reaches up, grabs the younger man’s hair, and yanks him down, flush to his chest. Young Gabe gives a startled yelp, fingers and toes scrabbling on the sheets to find some kind of purchase, but before he can grab onto anything, Gabriel wraps his muscular arms around him and rolls them both over, pinning the younger man under the weight of his body. He gets his knees underneath and slides his arms under Gabe’s thighs.

Those holy thighs snap around him immediately, Gabe’s hips canting eagerly to meet his powerful thrusts. Gabriel is now pounding the other man into the bed, both of them gasping and groaning and cursing. He takes hold of the younger man’s cock and starts stroking him up and down, and he is pretty sure that is going to tip him over.

“We both— _fuck_ —know the truth,” young Gabe manages to gasp out. “Hell we _all_ know the truth. You said so yourself.”

He has to pause to toss his head back and cry out when Gabriel slams into that spot with his cock. Gabriel can feel the body beneath him start to unravel, in the trembling of those muscular thighs and the desperate way he meets the incoming thrusts. It is a good thing, because he’s about to lose it himself.

But young Gabe suddenly grabs him by his long hair, yanking him down close. “What you really want is to be in my position, screaming _damelo duro, Soldado! Damelo todo!_ ” (Give it to me harder, Soldier. Give me everything).

**He is not wrong** , Reaper interjects, at the most inappropriate moment possible.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” Gabriel yells as he explodes, and he feels young Gabe go with him.

In fact, he has no idea which one of them comes first, but the point seems immaterial. He feels his nanites enter into that state of extreme, animated bliss and he thinks he might actually melt into a black puddle before he’s even done thrusting and pumping uncontrollably into the younger man. For his part, young Gabe’s cock is still spurting hot white come onto his own stomach, chest heaving for air, hand still tangled in Gabriel’s salt and pepper locks.

Gabriel has the presence of mind to reach with a tendril to shut the camera off, but it is a couple of minutes before he is fairly sure he won’t actually dissolve, and he can crawl over close enough to grab the laptop. He sends the video without even looking at it, but he does add a message that makes young Gabe—who reads it over his shoulder—burst into laughter: Go fuck yourselves.

“Think they can beat that?” the younger man asks, when he stops laughing.

Gabriel shoots him a grin. “I don’t know, but they are sure going to try.”

Young Gabe _hmms_ thoughtfully. After a moment, he rolls off the side of the bed, bouncing to his feet with entirely too much energy after what just happened.

“Well, I’m going to clean up,” he says. “And also, I’m fucking starving. Gonna order some room service. You want anything?”

Gabriel, who feels like he’s going to drift off to sleep—which is a feat for someone who doesn’t sleep anymore—gives him a questioning look, wondering if he is being mocked. But the younger man looks serious.

“I saw you trying the chocolate before. You could only taste it on me, right?” young Gabe says. When Gabriel reluctantly nods, he smiles. “Well, time to experiment and see if that holds true for other things, too. Maybe it has something to do with the nanites we share!”

Gabriel is too blissed out and delightfully pain-free to properly process this theory. He will think about it later and maybe talk to Reaper, but the AI is doing the nanite equivalent of contentedly purring in a corner right now, and he doesn’t want to stir it up, because silence in his head is heavenly and rare.

He sits up. “Get some _coxinha._ And _pão de queijo_. Steak would be good. Oh, and something sweet. Ice cream maybe.”

Young Gabe salutes and disappears. Gabriel collapses back on the bed and glances at the laptop with a grin. He tries not to get his hopes up that this will work. It is an experiment, nothing more. But even if it doesn’t, it’s been a good day.

 

****

 

More amazing artwork to show off! This one is actually a reversal... Higo had already drawn this gorgeous piece when we were starting to write this mess. I thought Higo's line work was so gorgeous that I HAD to write the tentacle scene based on that art. The visual of Reaper going smokey and monster-y during the sounding of his younger self was just .... AHHHHHHHH... it had to be done:  
  


 

https://twitter.com/AkihiroHayato/status/1001008708128722945  
  
There's a colored version too, will update when I have a link. 


	4. Jacking Off

Young Jack, having been untied and cleaned up (though the collar is left on), is lolling petulantly across old Jack’s lap, trying to entice his older self to give him some relief for his near gut-wrenching sexual frustration. He and Gabe have dabbled in edging, but he’s never actually been denied an orgasm this long, and it’s starting to turn into very pressing physical discomfort. Old Jack, apparently tiring of having his thigh humped, pushes the kid down flat on his back and holds him there, pinned by his arms.

“You are so fucking impatient,” he says sternly. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you that good things come to those who wait?”

“Give me a break, old man,” young Jack says, rolling his eyes. “It’s easy to tell me to be patient when you just came all over my face. I’m fucking dying, here. Give me _something_.”

“How about I turn you over my knee and beat your ass raw,” the older man retorts.

“Yes, please!” young Jack says, brightening up. He squirms expectantly in his grasp. “You’re not moving. I said yes, beat me! Come onnnnn!”

“I think you’re better off like this. Might teach you a lesson about delayed gratification.”

“Fiiiiiiine,” young Jack groans. “But I need to piss now, so unless you’re planning on introducing watersports into this little kinkathon, you’re gonna have to let me up.”

Old Jack laughs and lets him go, falling back onto the bed with a sigh. “Ok, fine. Go take a piss while I pick out a flogger. But remember, I know exactly how much you can handle, so I’m not gonna go easy on you.”

“Ooh, _daddy_ …you promise?” Jack purrs, as he lifts his lithe, muscular body off the bed.

“Go, asshole!”

Jack winks and blows a kiss as he saunters out the door. While he’s gone, the next message from the Gabes arrives. Old Jack resists the temptation to watch it, but just the idea of what it might be has already got him half hard again. He wonders if other men his age would envy or pity the super-soldier enhancements that make his dick behave as if it’s twenty years old still. He looks up when he hears young Jack reenter the room and freezes, staring incredulously at the blonde.

“What. The fuck. Are you wearing.”

“Oh, this old thing?” his younger self replies languidly, shrugging his shoulders in the garish, red-white-and-blue motorcycle jacket. “I just had it lying around.”

He twirls around to display his taut, round ass, centered perfectly below the big, red “76” emblazoned on the back.

“That’s very cute,” old Jack chuckles, shaking his head. “Grab me that riding crop from the drawer. The Gabes got back to us.”

“Ooh, Yes!” Jack says, hurrying eagerly over to the bed. He hands him the crop and reaches for his phone, but old Jack holds it away.

“How do you ask?” he says, in his sternest command voice.

Jack huffs. “ _Please_ can we watch our boyfriends fuck now?”

“Good boy,” old Jack grins. “Yes, we can. Come here.”

He pats the bed between his thighs, setting the black riding crop on the bed beside him. Jack climbs up and sits in front of him, making sure to slide his bare ass teasingly over the other man’s cock as he settles his back against his chest. Old Jack holds the phone up and Jack taps the screen to start the video.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs, as they watch Reaper’s black tendril slither into young Gabe’s dick. “I had…no idea he could do that. Is that what you were yowling about up there? In the house in Bucharest?”

Young Jack nods, keeping his eyes on the screen, but he feels old Jack’s cock swelling and hardening against him, and he pushes back to increase the pressure. The older man’s free hand slides up his chest and begins to pinch and tease his sensitive nipples. Jack’s face flushes with heat and his cock throbs, aching for attention.

“These two—ah! fucking assholes,” he pants, writhing as his older self gives one nipple an abrupt twist. “They’re literally fucking and they still can’t—can’t shut up.”

“They have to make everything a pissing contest,” old Jack says, but his voice is hoarse and thick with lust. “Looks like we’re all winning, though.”

He reaches over and taps record on the laptop, then he takes hold of Jack’s rigid cock. He glides his thumb around the slick of clear fluid at the slit, eliciting a gasp from the younger man, then begins to stroke it as they watch the video.

Jack moans softly, fucking into his older self’s tight fist, eyes transfixed on the image of his beautiful Gabriel being fucked senseless by _his_ older self. He throws his hand up around the back of old Jack’s neck and grips it tightly, giving a sharp cry as his body arches and goes rigid. He comes hard, spurting thick, milky streaks up his stomach and chest, just as the Gabes reach their enthusiastic conclusion on screen.

“Oh fuck,” he gasps. “Holy fuck, that was so—” He gives a yelp as old Jack grabs him by his hair and throws him forward onto his stomach.

“You came without asking for permission,” the older man snarls, taking him by his hips and dragging him up onto his hands and knees.

The blonde hairs on the back of Jack’s neck stand on end. Instinctively, he braces himself, just in time for a searing-hot lash from the riding crop to slice across his exposed ass.

“Ahhh…fuck!” he wails. “Jesus Christ, that hurts!”

“It’s supposed to hurt,” old Jack says coolly. “Five more. Count them for me. If you miss any, I’ll add another six.”

Jack buries his face in the mattress to stifle his hoarse cry as the thing strikes his tender skin with another strident blow.

“Two!” he manages to choke out, just before the third lands with a ringing crack. “Three! Fuck!”

He digs his fingernails into the bedspread, writhing in agony, his wet, spent cock swelling between his thighs. The fourth lash connects, sending lighting bolts of pain through his tormented flesh.

“Four! Please! I can’t…I can’t take it!”

“Yes you can,” the older man says. “Two more.”

The fifth and sixth lash tear into Jack’s punished skin in quick succession, making him keen and tremble, tears rolling down his face as he sputters out the count.

“Good. Very good boy,” old Jack says in his rough, craggy growl. He lays a cool hand on Jack’s hot, red-streaked skin to soothe the burning welts.

Young Jack feels his ass being spread apart and hisses when a wet, warm tongue drags suddenly over his exposed hole. He bucks and shudders, making plaintive sounds in his throat as the older man devours his asshole, tongue pushing past the resistant opening once or twice, drawing back and circling again. Old Jack reaches up and fondles Jack’s aching balls, gently tugging and stroking them as his tongue alternates between teasing flicks and smooth circles around the sensitive rim, driving Jack to near madness.

“You want daddy’s cock now?” he says, drawing away at last. “I think you’ve earned it.”

“Y—yes,” Jack whimpers. “Please, daddy. Give it to me, I…I want it so bad.”

He gives a start as cold lube drizzles over his warm skin. A big, slick finger slides inside him, followed by a second. Jack moans into the bed, arching and pushing back to get them deeper as he’s stretched and worked open. Old Jack draws out his fingers, then the big, blunt head of his cock presses against the rim. Jack almost laughs at the idea of the scarred, world-weary Soldier 76 fucking a younger version of himself, who is wearing nothing but his very recognizable jacket, but the near-laugh turns into a wide-eyed gasp as the older man penetrates him abruptly.

He’s taken Gabe’s cock plenty of times and it is a bit larger, but Gabe is usually a lot gentler. He whines and twists but the old soldier’s big, calloused hands are clamped onto his hips and he can’t move an inch. He white-knuckles the bedspread, wheezing at the slow, girthy slide as he’s spread out and stretched around that thick dick till he thinks he’ll split in half.

When he bottoms out, old Jack holds still for a long moment, waiting as the younger man breathes through the burning stretch. Then he begins to thrust carefully, pulling out and pushing in again, raking the head of his cock over Jack’s prostate with each slow stroke. He curses under his breath as Jack clenches and squeezes on him, milking his shaft intentionally as he rocks into him.

“Please…fuck me ha—harder,” Jack stammers, barely able to form words. “Harder, daddy, _please_ …so good…please…”

Old Jack obliges, pistoning his hips like a machine, fucking his younger self as ruthlessly as he would want it. Jack is arching his spine, begging incoherently, grinding back into each thrust. Old Jack reaches down and grabs hold of the heavy, leather collar, pulling back on it firmly till it strangles Jack’s voice and stops his breath. Jack’s head whirls and buzzes. Black spots begin to creep over his vision. His jaw goes slack, mouth open and drooling onto the bedspread as his older self pounds him like he’s a cock sleeve made just for the man to fuck into.

“Come now, baby,” old Jack barks, jerking roughly on the collar. “Come for daddy.”

Jack’s cock flexes and pulses, his entire body racking and straining as he comes on command, his climax increased to agonizing intensity by the lack of oxygen. Just as his vision goes completely black, air bursts into his lungs, and he gives a deep, gasping sob as he feels the older man throbbing inside him, pumping his convulsing hole full of warm, slippery fluid.

His trembling limbs finally give out and he collapses limply into the cold slick of his sweat and come on the bedspread. Old Jack gets up and shuts the camera off. Then he peels the leather jacket off the beautifully wrecked blonde and lowers his warm, heavy body onto him. He kisses the back of his neck and strokes his sides, whispering soothing words till Jack smiles and gives a soft, contented sigh. After a few minutes, the older man rolls onto his back to stretch out his stiff muscles.

Jack flops over too, giggling deliriously. “Jacking off.”

His older self stops and stares at him. “Jack Morrison, tell me you didn’t just say—”

“Jacking off,” Jack repeats, with another giddy laugh. “Who knew it could be so much fun?”

“Yeah, I think I may have actually fucked your brains out,” old Jack says, with a resigned sigh. “That was the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”

“You gonna steal it?” Jack asks chirpily, crawling over to nestle himself into the older man’s chest. “Use it to torture old Gabe?”

Old Jack looks up at the ceiling for a moment, as if considering it. “Yep. That’ll teach them to leave us alone together.”

“We can’t be trusted,” Jack agrees. “We’ll fuck ourselves silly and make dad jokes.”

“They’ll be a lot madder about the jokes,” old Jack laughs. “Fuck, I better send that video.”

“Ok, but if you don’t label it ‘Jacking Off’ I will literally have you thrown in the lockup.”

“Pfft. Obviously.”

They are dozing comfortably, tangled up in each other’s arms, when Jack’s phone chirps with a response from the Gabes. It’s a picture of the two of them in pretty much the same attitude.

The message reads: Let’s call this one a draw? See you soon for a re-match.

 

****

 

Zürich is cold and drizzly when the transport touches down. There is little activity on the base, and Gabriel can see through a window that HQ isn’t even fully constructed yet. The main base is up and what limited staff Overwatch has is living there, but it is nowhere near as majestic and massive a campus as it soon will be.

It’s also 0300 hours local time, which was intentionally calculated by young Gabe when they took off from Los Angeles after picking up an important passenger there. There is little movement in the hangar, and Gabriel knows that minutes before their arrival, Jack would have ensured that the security cameras had switched to a pre-recorded blank feed. Normally, Gabriel would avoid the need for such subterfuge entirely by simply not showing up on base. Even with his face covered by the mask and his features hidden by his coat, it’s best for Reaper to remain unconnected to the young Overwatch.

Thus, there is only one pilot Gabriel trusts. She walks out of the cockpit now. A pretty woman, nineteen years of age, with dark, luminous eyes and dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. Gabriel remains seated and silent, and from behind his mask he watches her glance at him curiously but she says nothing. She carries a dark-skinned brunette child of six years in her arms, sleeping fitfully despite having been picked up out of the copilot’s seat a moment earlier. The pilot’s movement wakes up young Gabe, who instantly sits up with a yawn.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, unbuckling himself and rising. He takes the child from her, who barely stirs as she settles against his chest. “I should have gotten her earlier. I hope she didn’t bother you up there.”

“No way, boss, I love her. She’s a treat,” the pilot replies cheerfully. “Man, you better watch this one, she’s sharp! Has a real interest in tech, asks a lot of good questions, and I’m pretty sure she understands it better than most adults.”

Gabriel smiles to himself but maintains his deathlike stillness. Young Gabe replies with a bit of a sigh that he knows full-well how clever his daughter is. He adjusts Olivia in his arms and gives her a tender kiss on the forehead. The kid is exhausted after spending a few days at Disneyland and getting spoiled by her grandmother and aunts.

“Hey, thanks for carting us all over the place, Fio. I appreciate your patience.”

“Oh, it was real torture to wait for you on a beach in some tropical paradise, but someone’s got to do it,” Agent Rebekah Fiori replies cheerfully. “If you don’t need anything else, sir, I’ll head out?”

When young Gabe nods his assent, she gives him a jaunty salute and leaves, completely ignoring Reaper. Smart girl. She understands discretion. Gabriel is glad his advice was heeded and she was plucked from the US Air Force. Agent Fiori doesn’t know it, but she’s been pulled into Overwatch ten years before she is supposed to have been. She also doesn’t know that her name is on a list that Reaper maintains in his head. And that Reaper will do anything to prevent her from being killed in the future because of her loyalty to Gabriel Reyes.

It’s only when the pilot is gone that Gabriel finally moves. He follows his younger self out of the transport and is glad the mask hides the fact that his gaze immediately snaps to the old soldier, waiting with his arms crossed behind blonde, cheerful Jack. His eyes trace over the vicious scars on the man’s face and his claws twitch a little with a desire to touch him. He finds it disconcerting that after years of keeping a wall up between them in an effort to stave off the inevitable hurt, his treacherous body is reacting this way.

 **We think you are an idiot** , Reaper says helpfully. **Did we not tell you in Romania that you and the soldier need fixing?**

 _I hate you_ , Gabriel replies calmly.

**Shut the fuck up?**

_You got it._

The hive-mind goes quiet. Relieved, he watches young Jack bounce over to young Gabe and give him a kiss and a light hug, careful not jostle the child. Olivia wakes up anyway. She blinks blearily at the blonde and gives him a sleepy smile.

“Hola, Jack,” she murmurs. She looks past him and right at the old man. “Que tal, Jack.”

Then she promptly curls back up against her father’s chest and is gone again into blissful sleep. The other three freeze, looking stunned. The child had looked at him curiously on the first day he’d been introduced as Jack’s uncle, but she had never called him anything but Señor Morrison before.

“What the f—” old Jack begins.

Gabriel can’t help it. He laughs. A sound made particularly guttural by his mask. He walks up next to his younger self and tenderly touches Olivia’s hair. She doesn’t stir.

“Always have to be the smartest person in the room, even at this age, hmm? Don’t look so freaked out. Just explain to her that she can’t call him that in public. And if she does, so what? She’s six and she got their names confused.” He shrugs and looks at the old man. “It’s late. How about a ride back to my place on that shiny bike of yours, James Dean?”

He maintains a small house not far from the base which in the future happens to also be a Blackwatch safehouse. He sees young Jack open his mouth, probably to offer him a ride on some Overwatch vehicle, but young Gabe bumps into him and the blonde shuts his mouth without saying anything.

“I’m going to go put this kid to bed,” young Gabe says.

The blonde gives him a stern look. “I’ll put _you_ to bed. Right after we have a chat about using a work phone and laptop to make naughty videos, Commander Reyes.”

“I understand, sir,” young Gabe responds calmly. “In the interest of full disclosure, there are also pictures and a video on my phone that you haven’t seen yet.”

“I will be sure to investigate this closely, Commander,” young Jack sniffs. Despite his tone, his blue eyes are brilliant with amusement.

 

“Yeah, what the hell,” old Jack says gruffly, in answer to Reaper’s question. “Let’s go.”

Young Jack waves to him as if to say good night, but when young Gabe isn’t looking, his bland smile twists into a sly grin and he clearly mouths the words “have fun, daddy,” before he strolls off with his little family.

Jack casts a quick glance at Reaper, who may or may not be looking at him. The mask makes it impossible to tell, but he does get the distinct impression that there is a sardonic smirk behind it. They turn and walk side-by-side across the tarmac, heading down through the main building to the staff garage, which opens for Jack’s thumbprint scan (obviously). He throws his leg over the saddle of his motorcycle and looks at Reaper, who is standing there somehow managing to look smug.

“What?” Jack says.

“What, what?” Reaper rasps.

“You have a look.”

“I’m wearing a mask, Jack.”

“Yeah, I can tell when you have a look, Gabe,” Jack says, eyeing him cagily. “What’s it about.”

“Oh, nothing,” Gabe replies, with a satirical twist in his metallic voice. “Nothing at all, _daddy_.”

Jack’s cheeks color and he turns away to dig out his keys. “You gonna get on, or what?”

Gabe laughs his low, grating laugh and climbs onto the bike behind Jack. He would prefer to avoid clinging to him, but Jack barks a warning about safety, so he wraps his steel-clawed gloves around his waist and tries not to think about how trim and muscular his body is and how he’d looked in those videos, beads of sweat rolling down his neck, rosy flush across his chest, the hard ridges of his stomach flexing as he buried his cock in the blonde’s perfect ass…

Simultaneously, both men give a start and Jack shudders palpably. A smoky, black tendril has been creeping up over his coat and has found its way to the bare skin on the back of his neck, where it is beginning to coil gently around it. Gabe calls out an apology to Jack, but his raspy voice is lost in the roar of the wind and the bike’s engine, and Jack doesn’t respond.

They speed through the wet, cold Swiss night, rounding the sweeping curve of the mountain road till they reach the turnoff for Gabe’s secluded safehouse. The bike drops into a lower gear to rumble down the long, tree-shaded drive. When they pull up outside, Jack cuts the engine and Gabe swings his leg over to dismount the bike.

As he steps onto the gravel, however, his movement is abruptly arrested. Jack gives a hoarse cry of surprise as several thin tendrils whip out and curl around him to join the one that has been snaking around his neck. They don’t squeeze very tightly, but they hold fast to him and won’t budge.

“What the fuck!” Jack snarls, looking at Gabe with battle in his blue eyes.

“It’s not me, I swear,” Gabe says. “Reaper is being an asshole.”

He tries to yank them back but the AI ignores him.

_What the fuck are you doing? Cut it out, you fucking assholes._

**We want to keep touching him.**

_He thinks you want to eat him._

**We do hunger. But this one can make us have no pain. We like no pain. We like the soldier.**

_Fucking let him go. There are other ways to—_

**Shut the fuck up.**

Gabe stands there for a moment, dumbstruck and unable to respond. Reaper has never used language like this with him before. It’s so absurd coming from the nanite hive-mind that he almost laughs outright.

_Did you just…tell me to shut the fuck up?_

**Yes. We do not think you have been paying attention. The girl has become small and useless. The blonde one and the better Gabriel are often away from us for long periods. The soldier will help us.**

_What makes you think the soldier will help us._

**We have been paying attention. His heart rate elevates when your body is in close proximity to his. His pupils dilate when he is looking at you. He wants to have sexual intercourse with you. We think you should.**

_It’s…more complicated than that._

**We disagree.**

_You disagree, do you?_

**Yes. We have determined that this is what is best for your wellbeing. If you will not cooperate, we will take you offline.**

_Fucking perfect. What if he will not cooperate._

**Look at him, pendejo.**

Gabe looks up, right into Jack’s fierce, flashing blue eyes. His resolve finally snaps. Overtaken by a sudden, reckless urge, he steps forward, tossing the mask to the ground as he closes the three paces distance between them. He grabs Jack’s face with both hands and kisses him hard on the mouth. Jack grunts and jerks away, but Reaper assists, constricting its many tentacles and pressing the two men’s bodies close together. Jack struggles harder. He’s trying to say something, but his voice is muffled by the kiss. Gabe releases his grasp on his head.

“Gloves!” he growls. “Your fucking gloves are slicing up my scalp, you asshole!”

Gabe blinks, then grins sheepishly as the gloves dissolve into wisps of black vapor about his hands. “Uh…sorry about that. I was just—”

His sentence is cut short by Jack’s urgent mouth covering his, pushing his lips apart and pressing into him with breathtaking intensity.

**We told you so.**

_Shut up, shut up, shut up!_

Reaper continues to gloat as they stumble toward the door, kissing and groping each other like teenagers in a parked car. Gabe ignores him. He’s too wrapped up in having his mouth tongue-fucked by the very demanding old soldier to give a damn what Reaper has to say about it. Jack pushes him against the door and digs out his keys. He fumbles and drops them, but a tendril of shadow catches them and puts them back in his hand before he can break the kiss. He unlocks the door and swings it open, walking Gabe backward into the darkened room till his calves collide with the sofa and they tumble onto it together.

“You taste like—burnt metal,” Jack pants, finally pulling back to catch his breath.

Gabe exhales a thick, black cloud of nanites and laughs. It’s still low and raspy, but not quite so gratingly metallic with his mask off.

“Yeah, you get used to it,” he says. “It’s pretty much all I can taste anymore.”

A brief spasm of pain flickers across the old soldier’s scarred face, visible only in the dim emergency light coming from the other side of the room. He gazes down into Gabe’s red-black eyes for a long moment, then Reaper wraps him up in dark tendrils, gently stroking and caressing his body as Gabe pulls him down into another longing kiss. Jack gives a deep, shuddering sigh as his tense muscles begin to relax at last, melting gradually into his husband’s embrace.

“Christ, Gabe,” he breathes. He buries his face in the mass of wild, silver-streaked curls and presses his lips to Gabe’s neck. “I missed you so much.”

Gabe smirks. “Get a hold of yourself, Jack. I’ve been gone for like six days.”

“You know what I mean, you fucking prick,” Jack laughs.

“Yeah,” Gabe says, absently carding his fingers through Jack’s white hair. “I know what you mean.”

Jack lifts his head again. “Gabe…are we—”

Gabe stops his words with an index finger placed gently on his lips.

“Not now, Jack,” he says, in a voice as soft and smoky as the black vapor curling around his face. “We’ve got all the time in the world to talk about that. Just…not now.”

A slow smile curls the corners of Jack’s lips. “What do you want to do now?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know.” Gabe bucks up with his hips, eliciting a gasp from Jack as their hard cocks grind together through their pants. “Maybe we could have that rematch…”

 

****

Welp, more gorgeous art for this story, courtesy of the amazing Tsurili/TsuStar. I (Edgelady) specifically commissioned this piece, as a gift for my co-author Adolphus, since they wrote this amazing scene and I felt it needed visual representation. Original work (and Tsu's patreon page) found here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/jack76-19424245

 


End file.
